The Heart of it All
by The.Beautiful.And.The.Damned
Summary: Delving a little deeper into Gavroche's death. Enjoy!


**THE HEART OF IT ALL**

**Author's Note: **This was written as a short story for year 10 English, but I am really happy with it and decided to post it. The task was to write a short story from a minor character's point of view, so I tried to delve a little deeper into the story behind Gavroche's death. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. As always, props to Jay for her fantastic opinions, xx

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything Les Miserables. Sadly. :(

* * *

Gavroche stood by the corner of the sidewalk, overlooking the war-torn streets he had once known. The streets he had once loved. 

Sure, he still knew his way around like the back of his hand, but they were different now. People used to walk by with smiles on their faces; and the palpable joy and love he had found there simply invited the disaster that had now befallen them.

Smiles were no longer. People walked by with their heads down, pondering over the intricate happenings of their day, biding their time before they would be forced to take action for their beliefs; no matter how burdensome the revolution was to be.

But for Gavroche there was no difficulty in contributing to such a massive cause, for there was nothing else left for him to fight for but his country, and for his two 'sons' (of sorts). It was easy for the elders to look upon his youth and treat him as such, yet there were few who realised him for what he truly was; a young man with a fighting passion and intelligence beyond his years to aid him in the crisis of combat that they were all about to face. Marius had taken him under his wing, seen that he was always fed, and as safe as any of them were at liberty to be, and Gavroche was grateful above all else for this, as he now had the added responsibility of Marcois and Henri, and had to think three times more than usual and act per se.

Gavroche smiled as much as was permissible under the strains of the times, as he remembered the day he had 'found' his two 'sons.'

_I was sitting on an empty crate in a dirty alleyway, gnawing at the dried bun I had been able to sneak from the markets, when I noticed two young boys, quaking opposite me, looking desirably at the little I had been able to scrounge for the day. Compassion filled my heart as I could see the plain hunger in their eyes and swollen stomachs. Rags clutched at their bones, and I wondered how long they had been alone on the streets, for it was not safe for someone as young as these to be unaided nowadays. I remembered how appreciative I was of Marius' help when my parents had left me to the streets, and realised that it was now my time to return the kindness I had learnt._

'_Come,' I mouthed, but the babes were compelled to stay in their place, as fear had rooted them to the spot, 'Its ok. Do not be afraid, I will not harm you, for I come only to offer you my own food, as it is clear that you have not your own.'_

_Here the younger of the two started, and the elder pulled him back, eyeing me with caution. 'How do we know we can trust you, sir?'_

_They had a fair point, but I was in no mood to play games this day, for it had been many a day since I myself had eaten. 'You have no reason, young one (at this, I felt pleased for I was not myself so old), but that you need food, and I am here, readily offering it to you.'_

'_Please Marcois,' spoke the younger, for that was the elder's name. 'I am hungry, brother. And I believe that we can trust this man (again, the pleasure returned, for my authority over the two was obvious) for he looks no better off than we.' And with that, he stepped forward, slowly at first, but upon looking me straight in the eye, skipped forward with his arm outstretched._

_I paused at this, 'Will you not also take some for your brother, young one?'_

'_Please sir, my name is Henri, and my brother here is Marcois. He is certainly all that I have left in the world, and would not dare to feast upon such a delicacy without sharing it.'_

'_Well then Henri, by all means- take my bread. And enjoy it.' I handed him the bread, regretfully at first, but with blessed assurance as the morsel left my touch._

_Henri moved back towards Marcois breaking the bread in half and clamping down on it unreflectingly. Here, Marcois whispered in his brother's ear, and took the bread with his eyes downcast._

'_My brother and I thank-you sir, for your kindness.'_

'_I wouldn't have it any other way, children. And now I must leave, for I have some business to attend in the market today.'_

_I watched the pair, crumbs dropping down their fronts as they ate eagerly, and smiled as I turned to leave. Momentarily I stopped however, for I felt a tug on my sleeve and looked down to find Marcois._

'_Sir, we have been on these streets for many weeks now, unaccompanied. We are not used to such ways of living and have barely survived through the little we have been able to scavenge from the markets. Today is the first day that we have happened upon such kindness as yours, and we are grateful to you for this.' _

_I was somewhat stunned by the boy's sudden break of silence in my presence, and was unsure how to respond for an instant. Luckily, Henry began for me._

'_What my brother is trying to say, sir, is that we would like you… if it is at all possible, and if you wish it only… to be our Papa?'_

And from that moment forward, it had only been custom to find Gavroche with his two 'sons' at his sides. He feared for them in theses troublesome times, and wondered what would happen to them if anything happened to him in the beginning revolution.

Yes, that day held the future for many, and the end for some alike. Gavroche could not be certain of anything during the uncertainty of the period. He had bid Marcois and Henri farewell that morning, and left them in the very same alleyway in which they had first met. With tears pouring down their face, they had told him of their love for him, and he of them, and Gavroche had prayed a silent prayer for nothing ill to become of them as a result of his actions.

Twelve was too tender an age for Gavroche to understand that in many, many ways, he was still a child himself, therefore far too young to have 'children' of his own. The responsibility and pressure upon him was great as he turned from them, but he knew that there were some things in life more important than family, and love. Like taking a stand for what you believe in, as he was to do that day, no matter what fear and pain he faced.

Gun shots caused his ears to ring, and Gavroche looked around, seeing soldiers marching towards his corner. Marius was at his side, but his sons were in his heart. For they had become real to him over the last two years, his own flesh and blood, and he had done right by them to this very moment, and he intended on continuing as so for as long as he existed. But this was his destiny, a difficult one for such a youth to own, yet one that he wanted to own above all, and be glorified for in his last days. He wanted his sons to remember him as the one who fought for them to be free. He wanted to tell them he loved them again before he faced such torments.

He would not admit his fear in the moment, for Gavroche was brave. Perhaps the bravest of all revolutionaries standing with him.

Marius looked down at him in this time and smiled, 'Are you ready, Gavroche?'

Gavroche simply replied by smiling back and raising his arm, shouted 'Long live the Republic!!!'

And with that, the battle began.

* * *

'Come Henri, we must find Papa.' Marcois struggled out of his place, standing to his feet and outstretching his hand to his brother.

'But I am scared, brother. And Papa told us to stay here. He will be so mad if we leave.'

Marcois squatted before his young brother, and looked into the depths of his eyes, sensing the fear that plagued his own body. 'We cannot be afraid, Henri. That is what Papa has always taught us. And if Papa truly didn't want us to go and find him today, then he wouldn't have cried as he left us. He has never been mad with us before, Henry. I don't believe that Papa could ever stay mad with us for long.'

'But…' Henri's bottom lip quivered.

'No 'buts.' We must leave.'

Marcois and Henri turned, hand in hand, and faced the entrance to the alleyway, and the darkened streets that lay ahead.

'Long live the republic,' Marcois whispered.

* * *

The soldiers were stronger than the Republic in the midst of war. Their guns held power, and their training held strength more so.

Gavroche stood by Marius' side as the opponents parted from the streets. Fallen men lay in the centre of the streets, both sides having lost souls in their hatred for one another.

Sweat and tears poured down the faces of all participants, blood for many. Passion was the heart of it all, undeniable strength and conviction. Gavroche understood the circumstances now more than ever, as he felt the full impact of the war. Friends, who had become like family to him, lay filthily in the desolated intersection of the streets, between all that Gavroche hated and all that he had come to love.

It occurred to him that if only the Republicans had more weapons, as a stronger means of fighting, then they stood a chance of coming out of this hell, alive.

And then he realised what he had been brought to this moment for, his reason in life. He knew why he was in the battle, but he had not been much assistance at all during combat. He looked at Marius, who was looking at the ground, trying desperately not to cry; he thought of his sons, alone in the alleyway, and what was to happen to them; and he sent a prayer heavenward as he stepped out onto the streets before anyone had a chance to stop him.

* * *

'There's Marius, Henry. See- Papa is never far from Marius, he is standing by his side.'

* * *

'Gavroche, NO!' Marius grabbed at the young body, rushing forwards, but was too late.

'GAVROCHE!'

Gavroche sped forward, ignoring the heart-wrenching cries of his own father-figure, and began struggling desperately through the war-waged bodies of the deceased, searching for their guns, batons, any weapons his side would be able to use.

'Papa?'

Gavroche immediately stood erect, facing the soldiers. He turned around, hoping dreadfully that he had imagined his child's voice calling out to him.

Too late, Gavroche's eyes caught Henri's as three searing bullets tore through him, and then there was nothing but darkness.

'Papa! Papa!'

The resonant cries of the screaming children sounded in the streets as the soldiers turned and marched away, and Marius wept with the best of them as he held his young friend's sons in his arms.

* * *

**R&R please. I'll love you for it. **

**Gabbi, xx**

**THE END**


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